


you're too far away (to be sleeping alone)

by girl0nfire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Implied Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexting, Sharon Carter is a Horrible Sexter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl0nfire/pseuds/girl0nfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stepping away from the window, Steve flops back on the room’s single bed, holding up his phone to tap out a message, because he misses her, and there’s no way he’s ever gonna let that go unsaid again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're too far away (to be sleeping alone)

**Author's Note:**

> [a tumblr prompt fill:](http://weinersoldier.tumblr.com/post/127992660848/could-you-write-sharon-sexting-steve-like-a-white) "Sharon sexting Steve like a white boy"
> 
> (and if you haven't yet experienced the glory that is [straight white boys texting](http://straightwhiteboystexting.tumblr.com/), you're missing out.)

Steve pulls out his phone as soon as he’s checked into his hotel room in DC, swiping at the screen and pulling up his last series of texts with Sharon, the last received three days ago just before he and Sam had landed in Bucharest.

_(202): Be safe, Steve._

He’s a little annoyed that he couldn’t get back to New York tonight, to get the new video footage he and Sam had found up on the Avengers’ big control room screens, but the weather isn’t cooperating, and short of taking a train or driving, Steve doesn’t have much of a choice but to stay in DC for the night.  It’s funny, but he never quite got used to living here.  And after the Triskelion fell, everything with HYDRA and Project Insight?  He couldn’t get the hell out of DC fast enough, honestly, but as he glances out of the hotel room’s big window, overlooking the Mall all light up, the monuments…

Nah, Steve would still take smelly-in-August New York any day of the week.

And he’s lucky that not soon after he’d gone back to the City, Sharon took a position with the CIA Field Office based in the Financial District, got herself a nice little pre-war one bedroom on the Upper East Side, and before long got herself a nice pre-war boyfriend, too, after finally taking Steve up on his offer of coffee and a twilight walk through Prospect Park.  And it’s been going smoothly for them ever since, and hell, Steve’s even gotten used to going above 34th Street on a regular basis, something he never quite got the hang of even when the team was sharing the Tower.

Stepping away from the window, Steve flops back on the room’s single bed, holding up his phone to tap out a message, because  _he misses her_ , and there’s no way he’s ever gonna let that go unsaid again.  He checks the time before he sends the first text, 1:33AM, and it’s late, sure, but Sharon always sleeps with her personal cell turned off, because  _the CIA’s the only one with any business waking me up in the middle of the goddamn night, Rogers,_ so he knows he won’t be bothering her.

_(347): You still up?  Just made it in._

_(202): Yeah, just got into bed._

_(202): How’d it go?_

Toeing off his shoes, Steve shimmies further up the bed until he’s reclining back against the pillows, a smile on his face as he types out a reply.

_(347): Not so bad, but the weather’s shit.  Gonna be stuck in DC until tomorrow._

He considers for a minute, thoughtful, until the image of Sharon already in bed flashes through his mind’s eye.  She’s gotten in the habit of sleeping in just his t-shirts, now; she’s already stolen a good four or five of his good workout shirts and she’s probably in one of them now, wearing nothing else except maybe a pair of panties, curled up under the blankets, her hair spilling over the pillow, almost champagne in the dim light and  _because they smell like you, that’s why, now give it up, Cap -_

_(347): I miss you._

_(202): Oh yeah?_

Chuckling, Steve imagines the look he knows is on her face right now, that one-sided twitch of her lips, one brow drawn up,  _prove it._

_(347): Yeah._

_(347): Miss being in bed with you._

And it’s true, he does, misses  _a lot_  about being in bed with Sharon, how she feels tucked up under his arm, the smell of her hair when she nudges her head beneath his chin, the way their legs tangle together, the way her hands always seem to wander just before dawn, her silhouette beneath the blankets when she dips beneath them to drop kisses over his chest -

 _(202): Hurry home then, wonderboy, I’m tired of sleeping alone_.

_(202):  Tell me what else you miss._

It’s a long list, Steve thinks immediately, his mind taking him far away again, back to last Sunday, how they’d spent all morning in bed until they couldn’t even get breakfast delivered, they had to settle for Chinese because all the good diners by Sharon’s place stopped taking breakfast orders after eleven.  Not that Steve hadn’t pointed that out as another reason why Brooklyn was obviously better than Manhattan, but -

What does he miss  _the most_?

The way she sinks down on him, he thinks, real slow like she’s got all the time in the world, how her hands slide over his chest to hold him in place like she just  _knows_ he isn’t going anywhere, anyway, the sway of her hips when she rides him lazy like an old torch song.

But he can’t put that in a text, can he?

_(347): Miss being with you._

_(202): Is that all?_

Steve can almost hear her laughing at him, that little musical one-two chuckle that he’d never dare to call a giggle, the way she holds her hand over her mouth because she thinks she shows too many teeth when she smiles.  And he’s about to tell her that, that he misses her smile, too, except he gets distracted thinking about her mouth, the plush stretch of her lips around him, and -

_(202): I miss your dick._

What?  Steve about chokes on his surprise, not because - well, Sharon’s not exactly what you’d call a  _shrinking violet_ , and he knew that going in, he  _loves that_ , but -

_(202): Miss sucking you._

_(202): I wanna swallow you whole and gag on it and get spit everywhere._

Alright, okay, they’ve - well, they’ve tried this before, sending - sexy messages, back and forth, the last time Sharon was on a field assignment in Langley for two weeks, and -

Well, maybe Steve had just hoped it was a fluke, because he really doesn’t mind the idea, and in  _bed_ he loves to hear Sharon talk, loves how brassy she gets, loves the filthy things she moans into her pillows while he rocks into her from behind, but -

_(202): Bet the neighbors will think I’m throwing up, because of all the noise._

This way?

She’s just  _really bad at it._ Cringeworthy, in fact.

Like - think-of-Sister-Mary-Catherine-from-4th-Grade-so-you-don’t-come-too-quick bad.

Cold-shower, bucket-of-ice, getting-walked-in-on-by-your-grandmother bad.

Those goddamn sneak-attack midnight commercials, with the country singer and all those sad animals  _bad_.

Steve abandons his phone on the bedspread for a minute, looking up at the ceiling and trying to consider his options.  He can’t just - text her and tell her it’s no good, that’s just  _rude_ , and besides, she seems to like it, last time she called him just as she was coming, and wasn’t  _that_  -

An idea dawning on him, Steve retrieves his phone again, and there’s a couple new texts from Sharon.  He swipes through them on his way to pull up her number to just call, and okay,  _what the fuck does the little eggplant cartoon mean?_

Holding the phone up to his ear, Steve only has to wait one ring before Sharon picks up, her voice already warm and breathless.  He can picture her now, just like the sketch he’d done up two weeks ago - the blankets kicked away, her cheeks flushed pink, one hand already tucked between her thighs,  _you got a real nice voice, Steve -_

“Aw, so you missed me more than you thought, huh?”

He can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice, the closest thing to home he’s had in way too long, and when her breath hitches softly in the silence before he answers, Steve lets his free hand wander to the front of his jeans.

“Guess I did, Carter, what’re you gonna do about it?”


End file.
